


Like Light to the Flies

by singie



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chrollo has mood swings, Halken loves his bro but oh boy he's odd, Hisoka is just... there, Kurapika has no standards, M/M, Tser has a one-sided crush, Tser's a weird dude, hxhbb, hxhbb2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singie/pseuds/singie
Summary: “Interesting. You’ll forgive the man who killed him, but not the one who loved him.”





	1. Devoutly Wished for Blinded Eyes

_His heart clenches and the pain sends his head spinning. Life is fading away, and in that moment Tserriednich realizes his only regret._

*

"What on hell are you doing in my cabin?"

Days into this job, and Kurapika hadn’t found anything as distasteful as this: an annoying murdering magician, casually shuffling playing cards on his bed.

"You know what, don’t bother to answer. Just leave."

Kurapika loosened his tie and slid out of the formal suit, hanging them by the door and preparing to use force to remove Hisoka if needed.

A Black Whale trip was crazy enough as it was, he didn't need the pink Nen user making his cards float harmonically in the air, suspended by invisible rubber-gum-like strings.

"That’s unfair, you’re not the only one that had a rough day," Hisoka whined and crossed his legs, and Kurapika winced at how he slid his high heels over clean sheets without a care for sanitation.

"Oh? I wonder what you did the entire day. Don’t tell me you’re employed."

That wasn’t really a joke, but Hisoka laughed anyway. "Of course not, I am my own manager, but I respect my working-class friends like you. Talking about that, what a tiny room. It’s a shame that a wealthy royal family makes you work under these conditions." Hisoka pointed at the cabin’s architecture.

The bodyguards’ cabins were tidy but small, a chamber attached to the south of Queen Oito’s room. The sheets looked clean and the furniture was polished, finished with varnish, matching the queen’s main room. "A pity what happened to your last employer, if I remember it right he paid you a living wage and gave you somewhere to sleep that wasn’t a cubicle."

"This is a ship, Hisoka. Not a beach home. And as you pointed out, not very spacious, so you’re welcome to leave whenever you like," Kurapika said dryly as Hisoka showed no intention to move.

"Do you rush all your guests out like that?"

"I don’t remember inviting you. How did you get in here anyway?" Kurapika didn’t expect an answer. Breaking in a locked room shouldn’t have been too hard, but it bothered him that Hisoka had found his cabin in the first place.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Hisoka said predictably. "Did you also kick Danchou out, or does he count as a guest for you?"

Kurapika didn’t know if he felt the ship move or if it was his stomach.

He huffed in a delayed reaction, and as Hisoka’s words sunk in he felt a distinctive throb behind his eye, but soon recomposed himself just a second before the red broke through.

"Of course. You’re stalking me. Why did I expect anything else?"

Hisoka grimaced and looked as offended as his attire allowed him. A theatrical reaction that Kurapika didn’t have the patience for.

"Stalking yes, but not you in particular, don’t worry. It’s not my fault that my target pit stops here once a day, whatever it is he’s been doing here." This time Kurapika was prepared and didn’t even blink at the taunt. "I’ve been in better cabins, by the way. Nothing fancy like her highness your employer’s, but the rooms in the first class are truly splendid."

Kurapika stared at Hisoka, searching his face for any indication of what his endgame was with all this. Did that mean he was staying in the first class? There were a dozen people looking for him aboard and Kurapika didn’t understand how Hisoka benefitted from freely giving away his location like that.

"You’re staring ♧" Hisoka said, allowing his words to drift into silence. "See something you like?"

"Don’t be stupid, you aren’t funny. What are you doing jam-packed in my cabin anyway? Go to your first class cabin suite and leave me alone."

"I’m here for your delicious company, of course, so amicable. Besides, I’m not staying in an opulent first class palazzo, unfortunately. Here’s a hint for you: my cabin looks a lot like this one, but the door in on the opposite side, and the top bunker is empty," Hisoka said.

Kurapika gaped. Was this a trick? Hisoka couldn’t be giving off this information for free, it had to be a lie.

"What is your aim? There are over a dozen people looking for you. Why would you trust me with this information?"

"What wouldn’t I trust you? We’re such old friends. You wouldn’t spill my secrets to your new criminal boyfriend, would you?"

Yes, Chrollo had been coming to his room and yes, maybe that comment was on point, but Hisoka shouldn’t know that. Nobody should know that.

"Don’t say that, it’s disgusting. How do you even know about—"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere in this boat. In fact, it’s terribly easy to get information on each of you, and yet all of you together are having an awfully hard time finding out anything about me. So amusing! ◆"

"Don’t group me up with them. I am in no way loyal to the Spiders, they’re my enemy."

"Yeah, I’m sure. Killing your friends seems to be the quickest way into your pants. What would you do if I killed Leorio, hypothetically speaking, stare at me like you want to murder me and open your legs?"

Kurapika shook in anger and Hisoka licked his lips, eyes glinting as he expected an attack.

Predictably, it came.

He didn’t dodge, but grabbed the chain mid-air with a bungee gum coated hand. Hisoka’s eyes sparkled as Kurapika’s fury unleashed, his body throbbing in anticipation for a fight. He tugged at the chain roughly, and before Kurapika could realize what was going on, Hisoka coiled the chain in a loop and gave it a yank, pulling Kurapika’s body in his direction.

It was too soon before Kurapika had the mind to react. He dismissed his chains freeing the link between the two of them and regained balance one second before he would have collapsed on his bed, over Hisoka’s laying figure.

"We’re this close, aren’t you going to punch me?" Hisoka’s breath was hot on his face, and before Kurapika could stop himself he fell to the taunt, but his fist never met Hisoka’s face.

"You’ve been sharper," Kurapika hears Hisoka’s voice, and one look later, _Gyo_ tells him that Hisoka’s face is protected by a coat of invisible pink gum, like a squishy helmet.

"I could say the same to you, Hisoka," he answers. "You shouldn’t have given me your location. You'll regret coming here today."

"Ohh, scary. I was bored and now I’m not, so I’d say that was a success."

*

Halkenburg had been out all day long.

After a long day in the Academy, he finally returned to the hotel, cast his shoes aside and leafed through the handouts of tomorrow’s lectures. It had been the first day of the annual conference of Physics, and as the 9th Prince of Kakin and physicist he was a guest of honor.

Even though he had been offered a place at his father’s summer home in Shwanzhang City, his favorite brother Tserriednich was in town, and what better chance to get some quality family time?

"I’m home," he announced to the quiet living room before stowing his folder away in the dresser. "Brother?"

If Halkenburg didn't know better he'd say Tserriednich didn't move an inch all day, because he was exactly where he’d left him: sprawled out in the couch like he owned the entire hotel—which technically he did.

Of course, Tser didn’t greet Halkenburg back. Tserriednich was the type to shut out everything else when focused, and right now, the muted out TV had his undivided attention. Halkenburg took a curious glance at whatever it was his brother was so immersed in. Whatever it was, the soundless images didn’t seem to belong to one of his documentaries or classic cinema.

"You make me feel like I am talking to a wall sometimes, Tser." Halkenburg rounded the spacious living room to where his brother laid.

Tserriednich made room for him, but his eyes didn't move. The ten million jenny screen’s high resolution only stressed the low-quality of the video, recorded by a cheap, poorly positioned camera. Even though the image had been digitally blown up, it was easy to tell that the original footage was poor. "Is this a… footage?" Halken asked.

Tserriednich snorted, as if Halken’s confusion had been funny, then explained. "It’s a local store in a city called Razmal. It’s in the Hallakor region, more specifically, Lukso province."

Halkenburg lifted a brow, of course it didn’t ring a bell. "And why, may I ask, are you watching two countryside kids buy toothpaste?"

Halkenburg squinted his eyes at the TV, trying to make sense of his brother’s strange mind. Something about the brown haired boy was familiar, the round face, large eyes and bowl cut, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

The two boys ran around giggling to themselves, unsupervised by guardians, eagerly consulting their shop list and adding products to the cart. The shelves were displayed in a pattern you’d expect in a small village market, traditional and simple.

"Let’s say this video has empiric value for me, to put it in your terms," Tser said.

Halken could swear that Tserriednich was mocking him for being a nerd, but he was so curious he’d let this one slide. "Will you elaborate on that? Damn, Tser, I just hate it when you dance around information like that."

"These boys are dead; and this footage is the only recording in existence of them alive. I want to know what they’re doing, what they’re buying, what they’re saying—"

"But the video is mute," Halken interrupted.

"Thanks for informing me. Unfortunately that region couldn’t afford technology with audio support."

Halken wanted to help if this was so important to his eccentric brother. "Have you tried reading their lips? There are specialists if you can’t do it yourself."

"I've tried that but apparently they are talking in what you would call quite literally a dead language. It seems that there are no specialists in spoken Kurta language, so I couldn't find anyone to decipher it yet."

Whatever possessed Tserriednich to stan a feed of dead kids talking to each other in a dead language! "What do you mean, Tser? Who are they exactly?"

But then it hit him. The Kurtas, of course. That’s one of the cultures his brother was obsessed with, the ones with the red eyes. Scarlet Eyes. Halken remembered them well, Tserriednich had a lavishly decorated wall dedicated to them, half a dozen pairs of Scarlet Eyes displayed encompassing the central piece of the collection: the head of a red-eyed boy. Who had a round face, brown hair and bowl cut.

Shit.

"Y-You don’t mean to tell me this is him? Gods, brother." He faltered, feeling light-headed at the realization that he was watching the (previous) owner of the lifeless head on Tserriednich’s shelf—only here he looked alive and cheerful. Halken loved his brother, but he creeped him out sometimes.

Halken hadn’t meant that as a compliment, but Tser chuckled like he had. He paused the video and rounded the living room, filling two glasses of whiskey. "I hired a team to try to decipher what they’re saying, but they didn’t get very far. Even though there are written records in Kurtan, there are no Kurta survivors, mixed or otherwise. Do you think any of your academic friends is good enough to reconstruct their speech from just the lip movement and body language?"

"I don’t know, Tser. I get why you would hold on to this video, but isn’t this going too far? They’re probably just talking about groceries. Instead of watching these kids buy a tray of eggs for the fiftieth time you should come to archery practice with me one day for a change."

They had been through that so many times, Tser just repeated his usual response. "Sure brother, one day. But in the meanwhile, can you help me with that? If anyone knows the right people for the job, it’s you."

Halkenburg made a face, so transparent his dear brother was when he wanted something. "I have an acquaintance who’s working on a paper about Kurta sociology. From what I recall, they despised the contact with outsiders, including other locals in Lusko, and rarely went out. It’s odd that they would allow two young boys to roam around like that, so I’ll concede that maybe there’s something to be gained from analyzing this."

"See, I told you this footage contains scientific value!"

Halkenburg pondered, and decided that since his brother was so determined to go to such great lengths for this knowledge, best to make a social service out of it. "I’m sure someone in the Academy might me qualified to crack the code for you, and maybe even find out more, but you’ll have to get them interested. Why don’t you donate to the University and promote a few scholarships for Kurta studies? That would bring visibility and indirectly benefit you, since you’re so interested in them."

"If you want something well done, donate funds. Isn’t that how the saying goes?" Of course, Tser knew the importance of donations. He had spent a large sum in the eyes and head, but the collection was drab and soulless without the knowledge to give them life. "I’ll agree to those terms, but I want a team with the best scholars. I assume you’re familiar with them. If they can at least learn the boy’s name it will have been worth it."

Tserriednich resumed the video, this time focused on the blond boy’s lips. He must have said the other’s name at some point, maybe many times. Somebody had to be capable of figuring it out.

"I have some people in mind," Halkenburg said, also examining at the footage. It would certainly be a challenge to get anything out of the soundless images, considering how the kids wouldn’t stop moving for a minute and the angle wasn’t optimal for reading their lips. "I promise to find you the best in the area, but in exchange you’ll be coming to the archery club with me one day." It wouldn’t hurt to extort him of his time.

"I already told you that I would," Tse said for the millionth time.

"You’ve been saying that for years and never did. This is final. I hope you’re free next month, or no deal. On top of the scholarships, obviously."

"Anything for you my dear brother."

*

Kurapika didn’t appreciate being publicly seen with Chrollo, specially after at least one idiot had figured them out.

Dealing with the knowledge that they’d been seeing each other already did a number on his conscience, he didn’t need his reputation equally tainted. But as it was, the Black Whale had more people than private spots. Even though the ship was enormous, the lower floors were crowded, and Kurapika refused to meet Chrollo anywhere close to his employer.

If there was no choice but to do this, he would at least have the dignity to keep both lives separate.

Both crew and passengers dressed simply in the fifth floor, and for all he was hoping for discretion, Kurapika’s bodyguard suit stood out as he waited by the galley entrance, staff coming and going. The frying oil smell would surely cling to his clothes and hair.

Chrollo finally showed up in black slacks and sweatshirt, the mark on his forehead hidden behind a dark grey headband. Kurapika had grown used to seeing him like this.

"This isn’t a good idea. We should go back to meeting in my room," Kurapika said, perfectly aware that he was the one to suggest they met somewhere else in the first place, eyes fuming at Chrollo, daring him to comment on it.

"You know I’m not particularly picky about where we do this. Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Elusive sarcasm of the worst kind.

Kurapika shifted his weight from one foot to the other, annoyed at Chrollo’s rhetoric and how he attracted more attention himself than the international criminal standing two feet from him.

"Obviously." The shuffling footsteps coming in and out of the galley were slightly less distracting than the whispers and looks cast in his direction. For a brief moment Kurapika regretted not changing into something more casual than the well-cut suit of a Kakin bodyguard. He obviously didn’t belong in this floor.

"I really don’t know what you expect me to do about that, pick your wardrobe for you?" Chrollo said. "There’s a pantry behind that door, do you want me to push you into it and chat in there?"

Kurapika was about to respond when Chrollo conjured his skill book. He didn’t have half a mind to feel threatened, and berated himself for how comfortable he was as his enemy activated his Nen ability. One burst of aura later, the whispers died down and jostling and shambling of the staff continued, except now ignoring both men.

So, Kurapika noted, Chrollo had a skill that allowed himself and others to become undetectable, or at least that's what it looked like. It was careless of him to allow a potential enemy to witness it, and Kurapika watched closely, eager to learn the mechanics of it.

"There, enjoy anonymity," Chrollo said and, despite himself, Kurapika’s shoulders relaxed. "Now, what happened? You sounded alarmed on the phone."

It certainly wasn't worry in Chrollo's soothing voice, Kurapika had to tell himself.

"Well… Yes. I met him."

"Hisoka?" Kurapika could have imagined it, but Chrollo's grip tightened around his book. "Where? Did you learn anything?"

"He came to me, to my room. And he knows about you and me, I don't know how." The last few words trailed off hoarsely. It wasn't easy to voice his worries much less to this man, but strangely it felt right confiding this to him. "He knows we are..."

"He can't know that, he's speculating," Chrollo said. "And even if he did, his corpse will keep your secret, you just have to help me find him."

The clinking noise of metal kitchenware coming from the galley was audible even through the thousand voices of the crowd and only added to Kurapika's ill humor. "I don’t owe you anything."

"Technically, you do," Chrollo said. "Maybe it's time for you to pay me back for the last bit of information I provided."

Of course, nothing was free. He couldn't trust the Spiders and he knew it, or he'd be trapped in a web of favors and debts indefinitely.

"Was the information I gave you on Pozha useful?" Chrollo tilted his head, his bangs sliding away from his eyes.

"You know it was. He had two pair of eyes like you said, and kept them in a seaside altar in Tollum. I don't know why you're asking, it's not like I don't know you've been following my steps."

"I'm glad I could help," Chrollo said, and Kurapika was certain that the Spider was just purposefully rephrasing how much Kurapika was in his debt over and over.

"No, you're not. Look, I'm working right now and I don't know where Hisoka is, and I can’t believe how calm you are that he knows about us." As he voiced it, it slowly dawned on him how much that specific fact bothered him. "But in any case, you had it coming, Chrollo. Someone else always pays the price, and I can’t say I’m sorry that it was two of yours this time. I don't like Hisoka either, but you guys are not any better."

Kurapika knew this was a sensitive topic to Chrollo, and surprised himself at how harsh he sounded. He hadn't intended to, but it wasn't unwarranted.

Chrollo gave him a long stare with his deep grey eyes and usual straight face, and Kurapika refused to break eye contact but eventually it became too much. He looked away, his discomfort visible. He was about to shout, what are you staring at, but Chrollo broke the silence first.

"Do you allow him to fuck you, though? Hisoka?" Chrollo’s voice was like ice shards, and Kurapika berated himself for ever losing sight of who this person really was. This was the real Chrollo, ruthless and vulgar, not the soft spoken man that for some unknown reason had been showing him so much patience and even affection in the last months. "Yeah, I didn't think so. I guess this means you've picked a side."

"That won't happen again," Kurapika wanted to turn the shock back into rage, but could barely find his voice. Maybe this was the treatment he preferred after all. "Ever. Don't insinuate I'd ever ally myself with the likes of you."

Chrollo's lip curled up in victory. "Don't act all high and mighty. You're still in my debt for two irreplaceable lives you've taken. Just because I've been patient with you it doesn't mean you’re forgiven."

What an absurd notion, that he was the one that owed the Spider, not the other way around! A waiter carrying a tray of breadcrumbs and used napkins brushed against Kurapika’s shoulder, breaking him out of his circular thoughts. Apparently, Chrollo's garbage skill didn't stop him from being bumped into. The waiter ignored him and proceeded back into the galley.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Absolutely, yes," Chrollo said.

"Your audacity stupefies me."

After a deep breath Chrollo's voice went back to the same soothing tone he talked to Kurapika in bed. _This is a fake_ , Kurapika reminds himself. "Please help me find him, Kurapika. I don't know why but he lets his guard down around you, and if anyone can do this it's you."

Maybe it's the stress from the last days, or maybe Kurapika has lost his mind, but his eyes soften at Chrollo's request.

"I can help you get close to Tserriednich," Chrollo said and like a mantra Kurapika’s expression lit up in anger. This was Chrollo’s favorite look for him, but he knew better than to show it. "Or even better, close to where he keeps the eyes."

If Chrollo noticed the way Kurapika’s breath quickened, he didn’t show it. "If you know where they are, tell me."

"It’s less about where they are, but more-so about how to get in. I will help you, but you have to help me first."

This is how it is. Chrollo wasn’t a man he could intimidate or order around like the others he’s dealt with in the past. He struggled to keep his anger in check, knowing cooperation was his best bet.

"I don’t know where he is, but I might have something for you. I’ve heard the Xi-Yu and Cha-R are looking for him as well and have been offering money for information on his location. If you can track them or force them to tell you, they might have learned something," Kurapika said. He was positive Chrollo would find that out sooner or later anyway, but as a Kakin bodyguard he had first access to these announcements.

"I appreciate the hint, but you’re my number one source. He came to you, you’ve seen him. Are you sure you don’t have anything?"

If it was a bluff, Kurapika couldn’t tell, but it would do him no good to hide this information. "He heavily hinted that he’s staying on the second floor, starboard side. It goes without saying that he might be lying or setting a trap for you."

"He believed you’d be sharing this with me, then?" Chrollo would find this amusing if his thoughts weren’t full of darkness and murder.

"I’m sure he does. Like I said, he knows about us," Kurapika said. "About our previous and current arrangements, about, everything."

Chrollo didn’t think that should be a source of concern. Should he be offended that Kurapika was ashamed of him? It was somewhat endearing. He took a step closer and leaned down, but Kurapika held a hand to his chest. "Don’t."

"They won’t notice us," Chrollo assured him.

"I don’t care, I can see them and it’s awkward. Besides, this place smells horribly."


	2. Hope's Left In Chain Suspension, Holding Onto Lies

The next time Kurapika found Hisoka on his bed, his first instinct was hitting Chrollo's number on speed dial and he almost did, until he realized what he was doing. Kurapika hesitated, befuddled by where his allegiance really lie.

"Ahn, you look conflicted," was Hisoka's was of greeting him. Once again, he had his legs crossed over, shoes on top of Kurapika's clean sheets. He could at least drop that.

"If you'll continue to invade my room as you like, you could at least tell me what your game is." That earned him a chuckle as Hisoka uncrossed legs and switched them over. "It's not funny, Hisoka. This could get me in trouble, and I'm here for my own reasons. If you interfere with my objectives I won't forgive you."

"When have I ever caused you trouble?"

A significant amount of times, Kurapika didn't have the time to enumerate them all.

"Where are you staying anyway?"

"I'll let your boyfriend know as soon as I'm done killing the remaining Spiders."

"Don't you dare," Kurapika said, eyes flaring red and, before he could consider what he was doing, he had his phone on his hand and pressed Chrollo's name. It rang once, and before it could ring again, the phone had been snatched away from Kurapika's grip by an elastic string of bungee gum. Hisoka grabbed the phone and crushed it in a crack, burning the circuits and denting the metal. "Not yet."

"Don't touch any of them," Kurapika growled in warning. "They're my prey."

"Whatever lies you tell yourself, loverboy. You have it bad for Danchou, but I don't blame you. He does that to us. When this fever dream is over, you will thank me."

Kurapika didn't bother denying it, because he knew Hisoka would take it for confirmation.

"You owe me 50,000 Jenny for the phone."

*

_ Tserriednich lowered his arms, peeking at Halkenburg and imitating his movements. He spread his arms to draw the string and before he released the arrow he knew his aim was off. The arrow flew past the target, a few inches from even scrapping the wooden wheel. _

_ One moment later, Halken's arrow hit the dead center of the target with a thud, and Tser congratulated him with a sarcastic whistle. _

_ "Your posture is off. If you came with me to practice you wouldn't have to learn from scratch every time we do this." Halken put his bow down and stood behind Tse, correcting his stand. "Eyes on the target. Keep your index finger straight." _

_ Tser followed the instructions half-heartedly and this time, the arrow scrapped by the target, slicing off a chip of wood. He smiled, fairly proud of the shoot. _

_ "Not bad, huh?" _

_ "It could have been worse," Halken lied. Tseriednich was a slow learner and it could partly be blamed on his disinterest in archery, but Halken would let him have his fun. _

_ Encouraged by his near success, Tser pulled another arrow between his fingers, brought it to the center of the bow and stretched the string. He fired  impatiently and watched as the arrow rose and arched, again passing far from the target. "Tch." _

_ "You shot too fast and you know it. You have to breathe, eyes on the prize," Halken said. _

_ "Talking about prize," Tser reached for another arrow mindlessly. One of them had to hit the panel if he kept shooting. "Did you get anything?" _

_ Despite the sudden change of subject, Halken knew what Tser was talking about. "Damn brother, would you keep your mind off of that at least for one day." _

_ Seriously, Halken could swear this hobby of his was becoming obsessive. Halken recovered his own bow from the ground and shoot an arrow in the dead center of the target, setting an example. "Maybe you could hit the target if your mind was on Earth." _

_ "Hey, calm down. That was the deal, I'm here today aren't I?" Tser examined the arrows, wondering what would happen if he shot two at the same time. He would have twice the chance of hitting his target. "Did you get his name?" _

_ "As a matter of fact, yes. That part was easy." _

_ "And?" _

_ "Tse... How about this, hit the placard and I'll tell you." Halken said in an attempt to bring Tser back to the game. Tser pushed him playfully away. _

_ "That wasn't the deal, smartass." Tserriednich pulled two arrows at once and positioned them together in the center of the bow, and Halkenburg needed no more proof that he was fooling around. _

_ "That can in theory be done," Halken said, wincing at his brother's lousy technique. "But you need to pull back the string further. You'll need twice the force since you're moving twice the mass." _

_ Tserriednich disregarded the Physics explanation but pulled the string with more strength. "Aim as if the target was twice as far away." He shot. One arrow soared up then arched down, the other veered left and hit a tree. _

_ They looked at each other and shared a laugh. It was hopeless. Tserriednich would never take this seriously, but it was fun to have him here anyway. _

_ "Okay, maybe I should tell you before your terrible aim kills anyone. That boy's name was Pairo." _

_ Halkenburg wasn't expecting how his brother beamed at this. If only he could get Tserriednich half interested in his hobbies as we was in this. "They have translated the entire conversation. Like I said, it's nothing too—" _

_ "I want to see it." Tserriednich all but growled. _

_ "You will. I'll hand the transcriptions today… Later. You promised we'd have dinner together." _

_ "Yes, and? Stop being such a tease, Halken. I'm your big brother," Tserriednich complained. That was bullying. _

_ Halken rolled his eyes as he took Tserriednich's bow from his hands gently. He had to steam off his brother's obsession, it was giving him creeps. As he hit the placard, straight at its center, Tserriednich decided for another approach. _

_ "Okay, then. You can choose where." _

_ Halken lowered the bow, smiling. It wasn't that difficult, right? _

_ "There's a vegan restaurant run by a NGL refugee nearby. It's lovely and very simple, but the food is delicious," Halken said overjoyed. He knew that his brother disliked humble things, but it was about time he deconstructed himself from the cosmopolitan ways of the Kakin monarchy. _

_ Tserriednich nodded in surrender, even though that wouldn't be his first choice, so Halken decided to show a positive response in other to make this behavior recurring. He rewarded him with some information. _

_ ‘'All houses on Kurta village remained intact, you know. There are researchers curating everything. So if you look into it, it's possible that you can find his house and his belongings since you have a name." _

_ Tse's eyes brightened with the remark. _

_ "Great to know! I'll buy the entire village. I'm building something for him, for Pairo. I think he would like to feel more at home." _

_ Blinking puzzled at his brother's his weird plan, he decided to ignore the last sentence while he started packing their bow and arrows quietly. _

_ "You probably can't do that without creating some political fiction with Lusko. Why don't you ask the bandits who sold you the eyes? I'm sure they would have more information or items." _

_ "Those uncultured vermins? They don't know anything. They just invaded, destroyed an entire culture and soaked the buyers dry afterward. Don't you think that I already tried it?" _

_ "That is very offensive, Tser. They didn't have the same opportunities that we did. We have an extremely privileged background, I'm sure if you offered a social program in Meteor City, or made a generous donation, they would be more inclined to help you. If you start off with that mentality, they sure won't cooperate with you." _

_ Tserriednich took a deep breath, mildly annoyed to hear Halken's discourse for the umpteenth time. Their visions differed in this topic but he referred from saying anything, mostly because he knew that social topics were something very sensitive for him. Instead, he helped him pack up. _

_ "Actually, you just gave me a great idea, brother. I'll have them search and loot his house for me." _

_ "I wasn't encouraging you make them commit crimes on demand for you, Tser. I just wanted you to talk with them." _

_ "But that's their work, isn't it? I'm effectively helping them, and they're nonpartisan enough that it won't grow into a state affair. Everyone gains! Another generation in Meteor City will be pushed into criminality if we don't do anything. Let's help those kids. I'll start a school there, what do you think?" _

_ Halkenburg still wasn't that comfortable with that, but change isn't something you can do overnight. At least Meteor City would gain a school in this blessing in disguise? _

*

"I've seen him again. Hisoka keeps coming to my room," Kurapika said.

He had grown numb to the idea of openly meeting Chrollo in public spaces. He lowered the food tray to the table, the black coffee turned to Chrollo's side and the mint tea toward himself.

"I hope you like chocolate," Kurapika told him dryly then gave him one of the paper bags. Chrollo looked at it, questioningly.

Kurapika had no idea what he was doing; Chrollo had asked for a black coffee only, but it felt awkward to come back with two drinks but only one muffin.

"Thank you. That's my favorite." Chrollo unwrapped the muffin and for the first time today, Kurapika saw him smile.

There was a moment of awareness where Kurapika found himself self-conscious to be sitting with a known criminal at a coffee shop stand, chatting and bringing him treats. Just being here with him felt like a crime. Every little detail about their date—for lack of a better word—bothered him. Even when the barista asked their names, for something as meaningless as writing them on the cup, Kurapika felt like he had been busted and the question was tailored specifically for him to admit that Kurapika and Chrollo were together, sitting at the same table. Of course, he didn't give Chrollo's true name but one of his aliases, Quwrof.

As Chrollo took a sip of his drink, Kurapika noted that neither of them sweetened their drinks. But unlike his own herbal tea, black coffee wasn't palatable unless you masked the bitterness. _How fitting that this bastard was immune to bitterness._

He ripped his eyes away from the man's hands as soon as he realized that he was staring, causing Chrollo to chuckle. Kurapika sipped at his tea, mostly to occupy his mouth and divert his attention from the fact that he was casually eating muffins on a coffee shop with a monster.

"Don't be so grumpy. I have something for you."

Kurapika looked up. He was silently glad that Chrollo didn't press him for information first.

"I guarantee success stealing the seven pairs of Scarlet Eyes in Prince Tserriednich's possession on two conditions."

Leaving aside the fact that Kurapika was opposed to using the word steal—the eyes didn't belong to Tserriednich in the first place—, he wasn't too hyped to listen to or play by Chrollo's rules. "What are they?"

Chrollo blew on his hot coffee and held the cup up to his lips, taking his time to enjoy the smell before taking a sip. He was different today, quieter, and Kurapika wondered if this was his way of being in a bad mood.

"First: I'm going in with you," he spoke and before Kurapika could protest, he continued. "I'm taking my share of risks to help you, in hopes that our alliance will prove fruitful. Needless to say, I'm convinced that you're the key to find my target, and by all accounts, I expect your full commitment in return. But regardless, we are going in there together, and we're taking the eyes and leaving as fast as we can. It's either that, or I'll get them myself and trade with you for information."

"No! I want to do it myself!" Kurapika raised his voice.

This was his journey, his oath, and he wouldn't send in a replacement. It was bad enough that Chrollo intended to come with, but relinquishing the mission entirely was unthinkable.

"I figured you'd say that. So, this is going to be on my terms, meaning that I'm leading the way and if I tell you to back off, you'll do as I say. I've seen how unstable you can become when you get emotional, and I don't trust you to carry out this job by yourself." Kurapika made a face, but Chrollo wasn't negotiating. "That is my first condition."

"What is the other one?"

This is where it got tricky. Chrollo fully expected the blond to break the first requirement and disobey him, or just give him a hard time somehow. There was no way he would be capable of keeping his feelings in check in that collection room. The Prince's collection was designed to impress, with six pair of Scarlet Eyes displayed around the final one, still on its owner's head.

Chrollo had been there and seen it firsthand. Kurapika wasn't cut out for this, he would surely lose it, just like he had in the past for much less. It was a lost cause.

The second requirement was the relevant one, the one he hoped Kurapika would keep his word on.

"No matter what happens, don't kill or harm Tserriednich."

Chrollo expected the confusion on his face and wasn't disappointed.

"I don't plan to," Kurapika said. "I just want what belongs to my people, and then I'm out."

That didn't seem to convince Chrollo.

"I mean it. The minute you attempt anything against him, our alliance is immediately dissolved and you'll be regarded as an enemy. Do you understand the implications of that?"

"I told you this is not why I'm here!" Kurapika said visibly disturbed by the shift in tone. "What is it with you today? You're different."

"I've had too many derails, some of them because of you. I won't quit until I've exterminated my target."

Kurapika's grip tightened around his tea. Not that he cared, not at all, but there was a darkness to Chrollo that left him restless. "Why are you so sure I'll be able to get Hisoka anyway?"

Chrollo knew he wouldn't like to hear the answer, but as it was, it wouldn't do their alliance any good to evade the cold hard facts. Besides, the blond had asked. "Because you're one of his weakest toys. He underestimates you," Chrollo said and of course, Kurapika didn't seem too happy to hear that, so he decided to soften the blow. "That's his mistake."

That didn't make it any better. The last thing Kurapika needed was Chrollo's pity and empty words. His eyes drifted down, back to Chrollo's hands, just away from his face.

That's when he noticed.

"Chrollo! I told the barista your name was Quwrof!"

For the first time, both men read the name in Chrollo's coffee: Danchou, followed by a heart.

Only one person could have done this. They rose up together, rushing back to the the stall to look for the "barista" but he wasn't there anymore.

They knew Hisoka could change his appearance and expected him to be close, but being played by him like this was humiliating. He had been watching them from afar this whole time and was absolutely unafraid to interact.

They searched for hours but Hisoka was nowhere to be found. Maybe he left the area, or maybe he was still here with a different look. From what they knew of Hisoka's power, he wouldn't need more than a few seconds to change his looks then go back into Zetsu, so it would be nearly impossible to catch him like this. Finally, Kurapika convinced him that they would need another plan.

If Chrollo was in a bad mood before, his eyes now were downright deadly.

 

It was evening when they decided to go back to Kurapika's cabin. It wasn't something they spoke about. Kurapika just walked in quiet steps as Chrollo dragged grimly beside him, neither wanting to acknowledge it with words but both desiring company.

Chrollo was more at home here than in his own cabin. That wasn't a surprise, after all, as a royal bodyguard there were small luxuries awarded to Kurapika, like room service, AC, and even his own sound system, which Chrollo turned on second thing after entering. The first was getting rid of his outer layers of clothes, knowing exactly where to leave them.

This place strangely felt like a sanctuary. He walked up to the fridge and chose a Gorteau whisky, a weapon to fight his demons tonight.

Drinking straight from the bottle, he chose a rock station. He didn't know if that was Kurapika's taste, thinking about it for all the time they spent together—talking about their common goals or fucking—they hadn't moved on to personal questions. He chuckled to himself at how he didn't even know Kurapika's age or last name, or even if he did have a last name to begin with.

Kurapika filled a glass of water for himself then sat on the couch opposite to Chrollo, away from the sound system.

They dank to the sound of music and this time Kurapika didn't have the mind to be annoyed at how comfortable Chrollo was in his room. He usually made some passive-aggressive remarks, but tonight he was extremely permissive.

"The room service will think I'm drinking on the job."

"You're welcome to have some."

"No, thanks."

Chrollo had steadily drained half the bottle away. He looked almost too vulnerable. Day by day, he was lowering his guard. If Kurapika wasn't too focused on his mission, he could take him down easily. "I've poisoned it," Kurapika informed him in a dead serious tone.

Chrollo flashed a smile. He liked that sort of humor on Kurapika, it brought out a side of him that he didn't see enough of. "How long do I have?" He asked, bringing the bottle of "poison" up to his lips and taking along sip at sweet death.

"Not much. One hour if you're lucky," he said in the same stoic way, wondering about Chrollo's alcohol tolerance—he had drunk a handful.

Chrollo just stared at him through bleary eyes. Kurapika looked younger like that, pouty despite trying to look serious. Chrollo turned up the volume, not by much but enough to energize the room. "Since these are my last minutes maybe you should spoil me a little."

"Turn it down! Do you want one of my colleagues knocking on the door and finding your criminal ass here?" He said annoyed, and as he moved over to get the remote, Chrollo pulled him onto the couch and over his lap. Chrollo gave him no time to move away or opt out, in one motion Chrollo's mouth was on his.

Kurapika hated it when he initiated things without warning, but that's exactly what Chrollo did.

Chrollo kissed him like he was entitled to. There was no need to pretend that this wasn't why he was here. Drowned in the poisonous whiskey, just like he drowned in Kurapika's lips. To forget about Shal and Kortopi, to forget about his own guilt over their deaths.

It took a split second until Kurapika's reflexes caught up and he bit Chrollo's lip hard. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He tried to push him away, cursing his erratic behavior, but Chrollo welcomed the rough treatment and held him firmly. This is why he was here. For every small action he did, Kurapika gave him a ferocious reaction that brought him back to here and now, taking his mind away.

"Again with that? I'm the same as always," Chrollo said as he left the bottle aside to feel the blond struggling on his lap.

He wrapped his arms around Kurapika and pulled him in, grabbing a fistful of blond hair and pulling his head back. It was his turn to use his teeth. He bit and sucked Kurapika's neck like he owned him.

Kurapika shuddered at the assault, and in a mix of guilty pleasure and pure hatred, he held onto Chrollo's arms and let him mark him. This felt good even though it shouldn't, and Kurapika was about to give in. But this wasn't like Chrollo, not really. He was obviously going through something, and Kurapika's eyes widened at the realization that this wasn't just about getting off. He was being used as a emotional outlet.

He pushed him away, forcing himself out of Chrollo's lap.

"No. You've been acting pathetically all day," Kurapika said, taking a step back. "If you want to fuck, you can just ask. But I'm not going to comfort that newfound conscience of yours, or whatever that is."

Chrollo knew he was behaving atypically ever since the trip started, or more precisely since his own incapacity caused the Spider to lose two precious legs. But that didn't mean he needed emotional support, in fact even the suggestion was ridiculous. All he needed was a distraction, and Kurapika was good enough for that.

When Chrollo spoke again, he sounded clear-headed and back to his collected self, and Kurapika wondered if he had genuinely calmed down in just one second or if he was acting again. He seemed drunk, and drunk people weren't generally known for hiding their feelings well, but this was Chrollo. Did common sense even apply?

"I'm not asking you to. Just… Do what you always do," Chrollo said.

Why should he care for what Chrollo was thinking or feeling?

The right answer was that he shouldn't.

The wrong answer was to reach up to his own shirt and undo the first button. Then the second. Then the next one. But that's what he did, eyes fixed on Chrollo's all the time.

Kurapika discarded his shirt and placed himself back on Chrollo's lap, straddling him. "Since you're dying in a few minutes anyway."

He stifled a moan as Chrollo rubbed him over the fabric of his pants. His hips buckled forward despite himself, and this time when Chrollo kissed him, he reciprocated it, rubbing small circles over his shirt as he grew wonderfully needy under the older man's ministrations.

Chrollo switched their positions over, rolling on top of him and finished undressing him. Chrollo delighted himself in the shudder Kurapika gave when his mouth assaulted his skin, kissing and sucking the most sensitive spots. He roamed the soft skin as he retrieved a body lotion, slicking his fingers with it. This time, there was a warning before he slid a finger inside Kurapika, wriggling it torturously before adding another. His response was impatient moan, and Kurapika fumbled with his pants until he was free.

Kurapika locked his legs around Chrollo and tilted his hips up weakly, throwing his head back as Chrollo finally slid into him.

Granted, the two of them were shaken by the nightmarish afternoon, by the whole trip. But soon their minds are blank in their momentary bliss.

As it turns out, Kurapika is the only poison Chrollo has taken tonight.

It was dangerous. Kurapika had good reason to betray him at some point, to ditch him after Chrollo outlived his usefulness, even to change sides.

But instead of looking, Chrollo closed his eyes and leaped.

*

"Hey! How old do you think you are?"

Halken yelled after a pillow came flying to his head. He was caught by surprise partly because he was distraught from his last encounter with his scum father—his dad had pointed a gun to his damn head!—but mostly because he didn't expect a pillow fight from a thirty-something man.

"You seem anxious," Tserriednich said. "Cheer up. We're reaching closer to the Dark Continent, brother!"

It was bewildering that Tserriednich didn't turn a hair in the face of peril, but Halken admired him for that. They were a few days into the trip and Tser treated their whole undertaking as a cruise vacation.

"Well, I'm sorry to be reasonable and think ahead. You seem blissfully unbothered with our father's idea of an appropriate succession procedure."

"Pff. It's all everyone talks about nowadays. I was thinking, since you might die any of these days, maybe you should loosen up and enjoy the trip."

"What do you mean, me? We both could die," Halkenburg said.

"Nah, not me. I'm the future King, you watch out."

This was the time for Halkenburg to throw the pillow back at his brother, making good use of his aiming skills and hitting Tserriednich right on the face.

"Talking about death, I was thinking," Tserriednich started, his morbid fascination with death was unsettling but always interesting. "Isn't it funny, in a sad way, that I have had him for years, but I've never touched him."

There he was, talking about the Kurta head again.

"And you never will, unless you want it to decay rapidly. The slightest contact with air would make the flesh decompose, not to mention the bacteria from your hand." It was amusing that this could be a source of frustration to anyone. Halken couldn't say he understood, but he also didn't judge.

"I know that, killjoy. I just… wonder what his skin feels like."

"Dead, obviously," Halken said. For all he didn't judge, that was becoming a little too much even for Tserriednich, and Halkenburg was ambivalent.

"They're not all the same just because they're dead. You sound ignorant, Halken. Inexperienced, since you've never touched anything that isn't alive."

Well, Halkenburg couldn't say he hoped to change that anytime soon, but how to voice that to his older brother and not get bullied for being spineless? "You make it sound like it's an experience I'm lacking," Halken said. He stretched his legs, hoping that Tserriednich would drop the subject.

"I wish I could touch him, at least once," Tserriednich repeated, this time to himself, as if verbally confiding to a diary, and Halkenburg just happened to be there. "If I knew that I was going to die, I'd finally open that jar."

Halken didn't know how to answer that, so he just said what was on his mind. "If I didn't know you I'd say you're in love with that boy."

Then he realized how weird he had just sounded. "Haha, that's a joke," he laughed it off, but Tserriednich wasn't listening.


	3. This Tragedy's Like Light To The Flies

As promised, Chrollo shares the prince's schedule. He waits for the right day, and comes to Kurapika hours before.

Kurapika doesn't look as composed as Chrollo had hoped, but it's either tonight or in several days, so they wait for the right time and sneak into Tserriednich's corner.

They find the corridor that leads to the fourth prince's collection room, one of the most heavily guarded places in the Black Whale.

Chrollo hates the extravagance of this place. On the other side of that ebony door there are treasures that sum up to an indecent fortune, outrageous for just one person to own in a world devastated by poverty.

In the years the Phantom Troupe has been doing business with the prince, they had never stolen from him. No matter how rich and how tempting it was, Chrollo has estimated that a long-term cooperation would be more beneficial. The prince wasn't too hard to please. In exchange for a few trinkets, he would contribute financially with Meteor City which meant the habitants got some semblance of basic sanitary services, food assistance, and occasionally health care. As long as the bond of trust remained intact, their arrangement would go on.

The prince's security is tight.

Just sneaking in there will be one of the most challenging infiltrations he has ever attempted, not to mention put the deal with Tser in jeopardy.

Chrollo looks over his shoulder at the blond trailing anxiously behind him, and wonders if he's worth it. Getting Hisoka's location was important, but there could be an easier way to win Kurapika's cooperation, one that didn't involve gambling with the Spider's business.

Stealing from the prince was stupid and dangerous. It was funny how Kurapika put himself in trouble much bigger than himself like a stubborn child, just like when he decided to take on the Troupe by himself in York Shin.

Chrollo shouldn't be helping him.

The risk was too great, Chrollo should leave him to his own luck. Let him figure out a pattern to the chaos that was Tserriednich's whimsical visiting schedule instead of handing him the Troupe's insider information on a platter. Let him discover Tser's numerous traps via trial and error, so that if he got hurt it would be his own fault.

Chrollo shouldn't be liable for the grand theft the Kurta was planning. Let none of it be at the expense of the Spider. If he wants to go into the nest of traps and alarms is Tser's collection room, then let him fend for himself. He had chosen to undertake those risks and it would be insane for Chrollo to take any responsibility for that.

And yet, here he is, babysitting Kurapika and splitting the risks.

The room is impenetrable from the outside, deftly reinforced with both technology and complex layers of Nen conditions. Cracking it by force would take time and draw attention, not that they couldn't try, but as it was, sneaking in through the front door seemed easier. 

_ "Security only lifts when somebody goes in and out," _ Chrollo had explained to him earlier. _ "Unfortunately, Prince Tserriednich is the only one that ever does, so we'll have to wait for his next visit. We'll have one minute, two at best. Do you remember my conditions?" _

_ "Yeah, don't kill him. And," _ Kurapika swallowed bitterly, _ "follow your lead." _

Kurapika's eyes are fixed on the floor, and Chrollo is surprised that they haven't turned red yet. They surely would in a few.

Chrollo holds one hand up, and Kurapika stops. "We're going in. I want to you to stay behind me, step exactly where I do, don't touch anything, and when we get to the eyes, I am the one picking them up and carrying them out." Kurapika's lips purse together, and Chrollo explains. "I'm not patronizing you, I just happen to have an ability that allows me to carry objects with minimum hassle."

"I'm not just along for the ride, Chrollo."

"How much experience do you have sticking to the blind spots of cameras that you can't even see? I thought so."

Kurapika isn't pleased, but they wait until the time is right and go in.

The Kurta eye collection stares at them in all its glory.

Chrollo expected Kurapika to lose it, but not this quickly. In a matter of seconds, he feels the blond's aura change savagely beside him, his serene tension seething into mindless rage. He doesn't know if it's because there isn't one but seven pairs of Scarlet Eyes, if it's because there are dozens of strange paintings and low resolution pictures from a video of a young Kurta boy, or if it's the fact that they're displayed around that same boy's severed head like an eldritch shrine, with everyday items like Kurta children's clothes, books and toys; but something finally pushes him off the edge, in a violent torrent that catches Chrollo off guard.

Kurapika doesn't avoid Tserriednich's path. Instead, he dashes off in his direction.

*****

_ Those lowly peddlers weren't the type of guests Tserriednich would bother changing out of his casual bathrobe and satin slippers for. Even though he'd been doing trade with the Phantom Troupe for over a decade, he held their group in low regard.  _

_ The prince gave word and the three men were allowed in by security. For their vulgar manners and despicable traditions, at least the Phantom Troupe had the decency of dealing with him directly, and if it wasn't for this ounce of respect, Tserriednich might have had them killed years ago. _

_ "Do you have anything for me?" He sat across from them at the low table, stretching his arm over the backrest of his couch. Not his couch, technically, since the hotel he met criminals in didn't belong to his chain. Call it a precautionary measure. Tserriednich could be reckless but he wasn't stupid. _

_ The man in the middle was Chrollo, handsome and well-spoken, deserving of the position of leader of the Phantom Troupe, but that didn't make Tserriednich hate him any less. He had two other Spiders with him, a tall blond and a short raven. Tserriednich had never bothered learning their names. _

_ The blond one pulled a thick leather pouch and placed it on top of the desk, opening it to reveal a small object wrapped in white cloth. He unrolled the fabric meticulously not to damage it, and revealed a small deformed skull. Tserriednich eyed it with skepticism, disappointed by what he saw. _

_ "You know I'm a human body part collector, right? This doesn't look human." Truth be told, that looked more like an alligator cranial bone. _

_ "It's the only human archaeological remain from the Tohuamec civilization known to men," Chrollo chuckled, in what surely was a pathetic effort to beguile him though his notorious charisma, and Tserriednich wanted to punch him. He despised this man with every fiber of his body. _

_ "It looks like an animal," Tserriednich argued, examining the piece and finding absolutely no sparkle, none of the joy he felt when he bought a new body part. _

_ "It does, doesn't it? It's said that Tohuamec children of high status wore masks from an early age to alter their bone structure." _

_ "It doesn't interest me. This feels more like a fossil than the remains of a living person." _

_ "We robbed a museum, not a butchery. Sorry if it ain't weird enough for you," the blonde Spider grumbled, and Tserriednich despised him even more than the leader, if it was possible. The former was just arrogant, but this one was plain foul. _

_ "What Phinks means to say is that this is the freshest human treasure they had in the Ayre Museum." The leader tried to sugarcoat it, and Tserriednich could see right through him. They were deceitful gypsies, his absolute least favorite type of scum. _

_ "Whatever reasons you may have, I feel like my time has been wasted tonight. It's a pity, I didn't go out because I was hoping for a new jewel." He glanced at the clock, there was barely any time for a change in plans. It was pretty late to go out now, the night was lost. What a letdown. "I'm sure the Phantom Troupe can do better than this. As you have surely heard, in one month the Black Whale will be leaving, which means I will be gone for an indefinite amount of time. I can arrange for the donations to Meteor City to proceed during my time away, but you have to offer me an incentive." _

_ "That would be excellent. Thank you for the generous donation last month, Your Highness. I'm sure we'll bring something of worth to you with short delay." And with that, their deal was tacitly renewed. A moment later, the Troupe withdrew. _

_ These spiders were so conceited, Tserriednich had made up his mind to kill these swindlers as soon as their merchandise ceased to interest him. He'd been unimpressed as of late, but was hesitant to cut the cord yet. After all, his biggest treasure he had bought from them.  _

_ They were the ones that had given him his Pairo. But, in a sense, they were also the ones that had taken him away. _

*****

Word has it that Prince Tserriednich bas been practicing Nen.

Prodigy or not, his few days of training didn't prepare him for the furious swing of Kurapika's chains. A painful yelp hauls through Tserriednich's throat as he's thrown across the room, destroying a marble statue. Kurapika snarls something foreign, maybe a name in his native tongue, and launches in Tserriednich's direction again. Bones crack as the second hit connects.

Chrollo's first instinct is to protect the prince, prone on the floor. But he stops when he sees that  _ thing _ .

He'd heard about these creatures, but is still surprised by the grotesque monstrosity that phases though the wall. It advances on Kurapika with murderous intent.

His blood freezes.

Chrollo's body moves by itself. His book is out before Kurapika even realizes what's going on. The blond is screaming and yelling at Tserriednich, and in his rampage Kurapika doesn't realize that the Nen Beast is one second away from dealing a fatal blow on him.

Chrollo raises his hand, and the beast stops inches away from Kurapika, frozen in place by Chrollo's ability.

"Back off," Chrollo tells Kurapika firmly but is ignored. The blond shouts though the sound of shattering,— _ Why him? You're a monster! _ —He's overreacting as usual, Chrollo thinks. Creepy as it is, Tserriednich hasn't done anything but a simple love shrine to a deceased boy, nothing big enough for Kurapika to lose his head over. Unless he knew that boy in life and they'd been close, but even so. "Kurapika, back off right now," Chrollo repeated firmly, and it's like talking to a brick wall.

Tserriednich is stunned on the floor at Kurapika's foot. There is no doubt that Kurapika will kill him if Chrollo doesn't interfere. But to save the prince's life he would have to redirect his ability, releasing the Nen Beast. He couldn't save Tserriednich without killing Kurapika, unless he found a way to stop the Kurta using only his words.

Tserriednich's shoulders shake as Kurapika marches toward him. At first Chrollo thinks he's having a seizure but he's laughing, rolling in joy at the sight of Kurapika's bright red eyes.

*

_ Tserriednich had read the conversation transcript over and over. The footage had been subtitled, which was redundant because Tserriednich already had the dialogues memorized by now. But it wasn't enough. _

_ He wanted to hear his voice. Of course, it was impossible. They could try to recreate his voice by analyzing what was left of his vocal cords, but if he couldn't open the jar and touch Pairo himself, he sure wasn't going to allow others. _

_ Back in his collection room, Pairo's deep red eyes stared back at him. Unlike the other Kurta eyes he had, Pairo's iris color were uneven, freckles of fluorescent red shining through his natural dark brown. He has been declared as defective for his inability to produce the same spotless red as his kin, and only cost a fraction of the price. But for Tser, he was more valuable than his entire Kurta eye collection, maybe even more so than his private body part collection put together. Like a unique misprinted coin. _

*

Even though Tserriednich is unaware of his own Nen Beast, he can feel the pressure from the Nen link, like an offshoot. The Nen Beast is paralyzed under the weight of a thousand stars, and it residually ripples to his body. His movements feel heavy, and not just because of the physical impact of Kurapika's blows. He isn't combat trained so it's enough to keep him down.

"You're a Kurta." Tserriednich says from the ground as he wipes blood off his mouth. "You must have known my beloved Pairo."

Kurapika's fuming rage multiplies when he hears the sacred name come out of this monster's lips.

There is a hostile Nen Beast frozen fuming inches from him, but he doesn't care. Giving in to his emotions, he ignores any ethics that would prevent him from beating a man who's down and kicks him. "You're not worthy of saying his name,  _ scum _ ," he growls.

The way that Kurapika blows up would be fascinating, cute even, but in these specific circumstances Chrollo can't afford the time to savor the fun. He needs to help the prince now or Kurapika will beat him to death. As he moves to summon a skill to interfere, his focus of the Nen Beast wavering slightly, the monster's eyes move over to him. "Release me," it talks in a broken, abhorrent voice.

The Nen Beast struggles against his hold, and that's when he realizes that he will need his full focus to keep it down. The sheer power of the monster is like nothing he's ever seen, and he has no energy to spare in another skill to stop Kurapika.

The prince is on his own.

"Kurapika, stop," Chrollo says in the hopes that his words might to the job. "Remember our deal? Step away from him or I'll release his Nen Beast and you'll die." Even as he says it, he knows it's an empty threat.

But he underestimates how little regard Kurapika has for his own life, and is completely ignored.

"Did you break into his house? How do you have his clothes. His books," Kurapika thunders, about to crack.

"Kurapika," Tserriednich repeats the name he heard Chrollo say, finally recognizing the face from Pairo's footage. This is that blond relative of his, how had he not noticed it sooner? It was definitely him, the same face, the same temper, about the right age. "You're his best friend, Kurapika. Pairo left the village with you once. He wrote a lot about you in his diary. It's fascinating that you survived and he didn't. What a waste." Tserriednich looks at Chrollo in despise. If that incompetent Spider was going to leave one alive, he should at least have left the better one. "Tell me about Pairo and I won't kill you," Tserriednich says even though he's the one with a bleeding nose."

Kurapika doesn't want to know how that creep knows such specific things about their lives. A stalker, that's what he is.

"I'll tell you nothing, monster." Kurapika can't use Chain Jail on someone who isn't a Spider, but that is okay. Some evils need to be chained down, but not this one. The monster that disgraced Pairo like this needs be nothing less than exterminated.

"Kurapika, if you touch him one more time, you're my enemy. And I  _ will  _ let you die. I'm the only thing stopping the Nen Beast from killing you," Chrollo's voice is strained as he plays his only bargaining chip: Kurapika's life for Tserriednich's.

The chains rattle loudly, hovering menacingly around Tserriednich, like a wild animal deciding what to do with its prey.

The irony of their exchange hits Tserriednich like a blow. If this was a bitter Kurta, then why the hell was he so friendly to one of the bringers of their demise?

"You know that filthy Spider and his team are the ones responsible for Pairo's death, don't you? Don't you know who you're working with?"

"I do," he grunts. He's not dumb, of course he knows who he's dealing with, and he doesn't need to justify himself for this monster. "We're. Working through it."

What a friendly if not affectionate way to refer to an enemy, like this was just a lover's quarrel not an irreversible deadly crime against his family. It's suddenly glaringly obvious to Tserriednich what is taking place. He's seen the Spider Head work his charm before. He wasn't exactly a liar, but he skewed the truth with such proficiency, distorting reality into what suited him best, and that is even worse. "It's disappointing that you'd believe anything he says. He's a silver-tongue. Whatever he promised or convinced you of, you're just fool caught in his game. If you cared about Pairo you would attack him instead of me."

" _ If I cared about Pairo? _ " How dare him! There wasn't a day that Kurapika didn't think or missed him. "He's gone, you creep! You insult his memory with this horror show."

"It's appraisal what I did."

"If you cared about him like you say you do, you wouldn't display his belongings around his head like a twisted trophy, you sick. You disgrace his honor further then his killers!" Couldn't he let his beloved, innocent, brilliant Pairo rest in peace in the afterlife?

A chuckle twisted out of Tserriednich's lungs painfully. "Interesting. You'll forgive the man who killed him, but not the one who loved him."

"Shut up, you sick bastard," Kurapika said and Chrollo was hurt. That had been Kurapika's nickname for him once. "That isn't love," Kurapika spat back. "You didn't even know him. And I haven't forgiven Chrollo or any of them for that matter."

"Neither have I. At least we have that in common, Kurta. I hate Spiders. They lie, and they cheat. They only destroy, never build." He casts a dirty look to Chrollo. "You told me all Kurtas were dead. Did you know there was one alive?"

"We killed everyone we found." Chrollo answers, and that much isn't a lie. But it isn't the whole truth either, since he'd known of Kurapika's existence for over a year. "Kurapika here was a surprise to me too."

"I would have paid for that boy if you had brought him to me. You made a mistake, Spider." Tserriednich should have known better than to trust a gypsy. "It's your chance to redeem yourself and continue our alliance. Give him to me and I'll overlook your betrayal and reward you. Kurapika has value to me alive."

In response to Tserriednich's command, the Nen Beast's hostility falls back. If Chrollo is to release it now, it won't attack them, so Chrollo contemplates his choices. If he allows Kurapika to be taken, he'll lose the access to whatever little information he has on Hisoka—but does that even matter? Chrollo's weight shifts from one foot to the other as Kurapika stares furiously at him, bewildered, daring him to show his true colors.

But he won't do it. For whatever reason, he isn't about to sell the blond for money this time. "Despite what you may think, Prince, even bandits have a code. I'm sorry, but Kurapika and I already have a deal," he answers, and Kurapika feels reassured.

A single chain is conjured again as Kurapika makes up his mind. The dagger-shaped tip of Judgment Chain circles around Tserriednich's chest before sinking painfully into his heart.

"The Judgment Chain has been placed. I'll set a rule and if you break it, the blade will pierce your heart," Kurapika says. Pairo is gone, and doesn't need a creep getting off on his memories. "You'll never say Pairo's name again, or even think of him that way."

"I will never stop loving him." Tserriednich won't go back on his feelings. He is a collector at heart, and Pairo is the most precious jewel he's ever found. "I refuse." He feels the pain of an icy dagger break through his chest.

His heart clenches and the pain sends his head spinning. Life is fading away, and in that moment Tserriednich realizes his only regret. He is dying without ever touching Pairo's face, not once. He should have done it before, but now it's too late for him.

*

_ Too much had happened in the few days they've been aboard the Black Whale. Kurapika must have been confused, with no time to process what was going on, and whatever lapse in his judgement was purely temporary. That had to be the explanation for why the weight of Chrollo's head felt so soothing on his lap, and his hair so soft and thick under his fingers. The Troupe leader leaned into the touch with closed eyes, looking more at peace than Kurapika had seen him since the death of Shalnark and Kortopi. _

_ When had Chrollo started to trust him so much? Or, at least enough to close both his eyes and his book in his presence? _

_ Kurapika took a sip of his hot tea by the bedside table and resumed stroking Chrollo's hair. _

_ "I always let you come to my cabin but you've never showed me yours," Kurapika said. _

_ Chrollo purred and shifted to his side, the tender warmth of his cheek against Kurapika's thigh. "I told you, you wouldn't like it there. The fifth floor is crowded and noisy." His chuckle resounded delightfully along Kurapika's leg. "But you're welcome to come over, if you want to." _

_ Kurapika remembered how Hisoka claimed to be touring in the first class, but decided not to bring his name up now, not in one of Chrollo's rare good moods. _

_ "I'm surprised you and your friends aren't staying in the upper floors," he said instead. _

_ "You underestimate how expensive Black Whale tickets are." _

_ That wasn't true. Kurapika had a solid idea of the price range for each floor and type of accommodation, as well as what discounts were available for each category of passenger. _

_ "Yes, but you should have the means to, since…" He didn't want or have to say it. How long would it take for them to "make" a few hundred million jenny per Spider? They had snatched ten times that amount back in the York Shin auction from right under Kurapika's nose. _

_ "Obviously, discretion was a weighting factor, but that too. That much money could be better spent elsewhere." _

_ "What, it all goes to charity?" He mocked, and Chrollo hummed in what was doubtlessly agreement. _

_ He did donate all, or at least most of it, away. _

_ The realization sunk in. Kurapika had known about the Phantom Troupe's philanthropic work, but had no idea of its extent. He stared agape at him with wide grey eyes, and Chrollo's eye cracked slightly for a glimpse at the consternation that engraved itself in his face, like it belonged there. _

_ "Meteor City?" Kurapika asked, and Chrollo hummed again.  _

_ "It's home, it's all that matters," Chrollo explained. For all affectionate touches and thoughtful words, this was the first time Chrollo shared anything about his past. This felt intimate, and Kurapika wasn't ready to hear it. "Troupe policy. Everyone is free to cash in their part, but what we make as a group goes to our home. Personally, I don't hold onto large sums either. They need it more than I do." _

_ Kurapika listened in silence, unsure of what to make of it or why Chrollo was even telling him this. It didn't compute well with his preconceived image of the Phantom Troupe. He enclosed the teacup, hoping the warmth on his hands would compensate for the sudden void in his chest. _

_ "That doesn't redeem you," he decided, finally. _

_ From what he knew of Chrollo so far, now was the time to expect a cocky self-important reply. But the next words that came out of his mouth were without humor. _

_ "No. I suppose it doesn't." _

*

"Why did you save me? It surely wasn't because you have a code."

"Maybe. You might have information on Hisoka and that's more valuable to me than Tserriednich's life," Chrollo lies. Even though Chrollo is betting on his capacity to help, Kurapika doesn't really have anything substantial so far. "I couldn't let you die before you fill your end of our deal."

Kurapika accepts the lie. He doesn't want to deal with the knowledge that he owes so much, and now his life, to the man beside him. He stands before the Kurta wall, numbly reaching for Pairo's glass container, still horrified at the insult to Pairo's remains and memory. His whole body and soul are now dedicated to pay respects to his beloved kin.

He feels Chrollo's arms snake around his waist as his chest presses against Kurapika's back. He tilts his head to he side to evade Chrollo's kiss, which falls on his neck. "Not now, I'm mourning."

As if that wasn't obvious.

"Sure. I'm sorry for your loss." Chrollo lets go of him and pulls a phone from his pocket. "Take your time, it's not like anybody is going to come here after we killed the fourth prince in his room. Do you want help carrying all this, or just the eyes?"

Chrollo imagines that he wouldn't want to leave the dead boy's belongings here if he was so important.

As a professional thief himself, Chrollo has to admit that the sheer size of Tser's collection of garbage isn't a joke. There are clothes, drawings and pages written in childish handwriting, and strangely small-sized objects that look like musical instruments. By Kurapika's face, he recognized each of these objects.

"Could you please just shut up?" Kurapika barks.

"You would suck as a thief," Chrollo says, and it's true. If he ever decides to get Kurapika into his team, he will need to find him another position.

They don't have time to wait for Kurapika to mourn. There is Tserriednich's bodyguard team and a whole Mafia to worry about. If word gets out that the Phantom Troupe is involved in this, they could bring problems to Meteor City.

Kurapika will yell at him later for this, but with a swift movement, Chrollo knocks him out. Being the emotional mess that he is, Kurapika never sees it coming.

As promised, Chrollo collects the eyes, the head, and even the worthless junk that belonged to Pairo. He is unsure if he should collect the low quality pictures of the boy shopping for food in a market. Chrollo inspects them closer. Was that Kurapika as child in the photos? It really is him. How cute.

Chrollo snatches the pictures away. 

There are paintings of Pairo, and Chrollo knows enough about art to recognize the skillful techniques and talent with which the were made. If Kurapika didn't want them, he still could sell them for the artistic value. If not, at least the frames look expensive.

Of course, he also retrieved something for himself. Unfortunately there wasn't enough time to get everything in the room but he chose his trophy, a beautiful dagger.

Everything is smashed into the fun fun cloth, and he carries Kurapika out.

Chrollo looks around to make sure there aren't any witnesses. There is one.

A maid, who perhaps has seen the whole thing. Fortunately it doesn't look like she has warned anyone, so without a second thought, Chrollo debuts his new dagger, slitting her throat.

He didn't know she would be coming back to life minutes later.

*****

Kurapika's head was hazy and his body numb. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Chrollo, reading a book and eating potato chips.

"Good morning," Chrollo said, as he laid his book aside and came over to sit at his side on the bed.

Slowly, memories of the collection room came back to Kurapika. He remembered Pairo's face, Tserriednich's form covered in blood on the floor, then… nothing. Had Chrollo knocked him out?

"What did you do, you bastard."

"Saved your life, spared you from being charged with murder, then tucked you on your bed. You're welcome."

On his shelves, there were the Kurta remains he retrieved, partly covered by a blanket. Was that Chrollo's way of showing respect? Pairo's clothes were folded inside a box, along with this other belongings.

Kurapika's eyes started to drench in tears at the sight, and Chrollo let him have his moment. When Kurapika's sobbing subsided, he spoke. "I hope you'll have your peace of mind now."

"It's not like you didn't take part in this."

"We aren't having this conversation again. I saved your life. You can go bury the eyes like you wanted to now. If you'd stayed there, you'd have been caught."

Kurapika watched Chrollo's face for a while. This had been the last pair of eyes, and that marked the end of his journey.

"And if I know you enough by now, this is the part where you choose whether you'll ditch me or help me with my target. You can't tell me the thought hasn't crossed your mind."

Was that a threat? Or was Chrollo was offering him a way out even though he's already filled his end of the deal? Kurapika stared at him in confusion.

"Don't worry, you can have the eyes, even if you say no," Chrollo assured him, and Kurapika was puzzled. What was his end game? "You can think about it and call me when you're feeling better."

"No, it's okay. I'll help you find Hisoka," Kurapika said. Whether it was because he's given his word or because he didn't have anything left after the conclusion of his self-inflicted moral crusade.

It was Chrollo's turn to look confused. "Don't make me repeat myself," Kurapika said.

Chrollo smiled and returned to his seat, picked his book back up and resumed reading.

Kurapika didn't kick him out.

*

The breeze of the ocean would be pleasant if it wasn't for the smell of putrefaction that permeated the morgue.

All the corpses were lined up, waiting to be disposed into the ocean.

Hisoka rested from his second death as he waited for the diener responsible for disposing of the deceased. Through the thin cloth wrapped around him, he finally saw the unfortunate man; in his mid twenties, checking the tag on each corpse then dumping them one by one into the ocean, as he complained about his job on his phone.

The diener finally reached the corpse of a maid whose throat had been slit.

The maid blinked at him and all color drained from his face. He dropped his phone in horror.

"I guess I've had enough rest for one night. Huh?"

Hisoka brought his hand up to his neck to access the damage. Nothing that couldn't be fixed up with texture surprise. He called off the maid look and went back to his normal appearance, fixing his neck in the process.

There. Good as new.

The diener was about to scream, but was stopped by a rubbery string of pink gum around his mouth.

"Please, let's not make a ruse out of this, right? ♢ I'm hoping we can keep this encounter a secret, can I count on your collaboration?"

The diener nodded violently, on the verge of pissing his pants. Hisoka released the bungee-gum, and the man ran.

Hisoka was happy, all things considered. It wasn't everyday that two of his toys formed a partnership, and that made the hunt much more exciting.

Would Chrollo fall in despair when he killed Kurapika too? That could be the cherry on the cake after he finished killing all Spiders.

He couldn't wait for the fun to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please send your complaints to @singie on twitter


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